|
|
|
|
|
|
much engaged with each other to trouble anyone who did not launch a blow at them. Perhaps if Gwenwynwyn had known that Lady Alinor was among the riders, an effort would have been made to take her. But Alinor was dressed for hard riding in the Welsh forests, and there was little to mark her as a great lady in her homespun dress and dark, undecorated wimple. Besides, the idea of a woman in the midst of battle was so foreign to all men's minds, that even if one had caught sight of her delicate features, he would have dismissed what he saw as the face of a boy. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The danger lay inside the gates, and Alinor was well aware of that. She slowed her mare's pace sufficiently as they approached, so that Sir Guy and some of the men could precede her. There were, indeed, enemies in the bailey, but those men had fought hard already. Some were wounded; all were tired. Her fresh troop made short work of them, and Alinor called imperious orders for the men to dismount and clear the walls. Her voice rang high and clear, the tones carrying well above the muted sounds of the battle that raged outside the walls. It carried also to the open windows of the keep itself, where frightened servants clustered, watching the progress of the battle below. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They were all familiar with that imperious voice. They had heard it only a few months past when Lady Alinor had visited Sir Peter. To them, now, that voice meant salvation. The lady had brought an army to save them, but even the servants knew that the bailey was no safe or proper place for her. A few of the bolder men, carrying weapons discarded by the dead or wounded, hurried to unbar the door, to run out and beg the lady to come in to safety. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
However impulsive, Alinor was no fool. She had achieved her purpose, and her presence was now more a danger than a help to her men. Sir Guy was competent enough in so clear a matter as taking prisoner or driving away the remnant of the enemy on the walls |
|
|
|
|
|